


S.B.M

by ComicClintDeservesBetter



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 22:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16921896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComicClintDeservesBetter/pseuds/ComicClintDeservesBetter
Summary: Karen page. Sanctuary for Broken Men.





	S.B.M

Karen was a good person. Until she wasn’t, she knew that. She wasn’t a saint, she wasn’t an angel; and above all, she wasn’t a sanctuary. There was no way in hell, or heaven if you will, that she’d do something like that again. It wasn’t her job to see the good in those damaged men. It was never a woman’s job to repair a broken man. You’d think that seeing the worse would point her in the other direction, but when did it ever do that? When did she ever receive anything other than turmoil? When did the universe ever have time to make her the protagonist in her own story? To create a happy ending, for Karen Page? Who would see the good in her when the world, including herself, had long since stopped looking? When was she ever given a goddamn sanctuary herself?

So, she couldn’t help herself when she spotted a doe eyed intern at the coffee stand, rummaging around in his wrinkled slacks for a couple dollars. She stepped in and paid, walked with him to the building, and even made friendly conversation. The friends she had were amazing but the things they had been through, the things they had done and were doing? The people she knew? It was just nice to have a break. A normal friend. This guy was normal. Light brown spiral curls danced upon his scalp in a sinuous pattern that drew her eyes closer, his skin a deep bronze that convinced her gold was hidden underneath whenever the sun hit his cheekbones just right. And his eyes? They smiled every moment they could, striking against his skin tone yet melting into his features like a delicate renaissance painting. What was that color? It was at the tip of her tongue, on the back of her eyelids; those eyes! They were this brilliant grasshopper green. 

When they arrived on their floor and parted ways she felt somewhat complete, and she hadn’t felt that way in a long time. It wasn’t until she needed a file from the printer that she saw him again. He timidly knocked upon her open door, holding her paperwork in those sculpted hands. He knew it belonged to her, just from reading the title of the article. Did she really talk about work that much? The interaction was short, shorter than short, but it was something. She, Karen Page, was smiling. It felt so damn good to just be doing reporter work, to have somewhat of a routine, to have somewhat of a normal day. If you counted drooling over the interns as normal, that was normal right?

Could you blame her for thinking of him for the rest of the day? For perking up when he walked past her office, wanting to catch a whiff of his scent? That was weird but you had to be there. He smelled like salted caramel hot chocolate, like cocoa butter and chamomile tea. She caught it while they were in the elevator, and her mind had held it captive Was he old enough to drink? She’d ask, just to hear his voice. If you thought he looked good you’d lose it at that voice. It almost put her to sleep but it kept her awake, hanging on every vowel, the way he pronounced every word and syllable. It made her lean in closer, tuck the hair behind her ear, focus so, so hard; so that she wouldn’t miss a second. He looked old enough to drink. He had to be.

The only way she found out was when she asked him as they were leaving, laptops tucked under their arms. She laughed and it was fun and thankfully he was old enough to drink! They went to Josie’s and talked for hours. A real conversation, about things she hadn’t heard in ages. About high school, family dogs, failed college romances. It was all so great, until it wasn’t. Because Karen was a good person until she wasn’t. She wasn’t a saint or an angel, and he was. She wanted to be. She wanted to pay for his coffee when he couldn’t find his cash. To make small talk in the elevator. To thank him for getting her paperwork for her. To invite him out to drink. For crying out loud, why couldn’t she do that?! Why did she feel this pit, this dread, this rigid cold in her gut as they spoke? Why did she want to run? To tell him she had too much to drink, to tell him this was too close for work, to do something drastic? She wanted distance between them, to save him from hurricane Karen. Things were different for her. This wasn’t just a drink with a coworker. This was Karen Page trying to play the role of a saint. 

He knew something was off, maybe she’d shown hesitation, maybe the conversation had taken a turn, maybe she’d said these thoughts out loud? Maybe he saw how phony her halo truly was and gawked at the tainted horns in its place. But he didn’t. He was worried, asked her if she was tired, if she wanted to turn in. His jacket was around her shoulders moments later and her doorstep was in front of them. He had never stopped smiling at her. Did she mention that smile? His porcelain teeth that stood in rows between those soft sienna lips. It was so, so warm. So warm, that it heated the cold rigid dread in her stomach and filled her with something else entirely. Something that made her feel so goddamn whole. So she, Karen Page, smiled back. And for a moment on her doorstep she forgot about everyone she knew, about everything she had done. Everything she was exposed to that had consequently caused her to come out on the other side broken and contaminated simply did not exist. And in that moment Karen was a saint. She was an angel. She was a good person. And he was a man who couldn’t see the worst, a man who didn’t know that this was the part where you run in the other direction. He didn’t see the damage. He didn’t see anything that he needed to repair. He saw her and her dimly lit, crooked and unostentatious halo. Maybe this was calm contentment, her main story, her happy ending. Maybe just once she had found a sanctuary for herself. And maybe it was him.


End file.
